


Meron Kayong Hindi Sinasabi

by ohem_jay



Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, F/F, F/M, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery
Language: Filipino
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27557998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohem_jay/pseuds/ohem_jay
Summary: A One of Us is Lying au.5 students come in for detention. Only 4 come out alive.Here's your homework for today. Find out which of them did it. I'll give you a hint: it's the one who's hiding something.
Relationships: Gregorio del Pilar/Remedios Nable Jose, Joven Hernando/Eduardo Rusca, Vicente Enriquez/Josefa Ycasiano, will add more per chapter - Relationship
Kudos: 2





	1. One Friday Afternoon

**Joven  
Friday, 4:40 PM**

To any other high school student, this may not even be a big deal. It's just one Friday afternoon, staying in school a little bit later than usual because of some stupid thing you got caught doing. It's normal. It's "part of the high school experience," our overly disconnected guidance counselor said before sending me here. 

Except this isn't my normal. I don't do stupid shit—I stay away from it as far as humanly possible. And I can see by the raised eyebrows and surprised looks being given to me by my co-rule breakers that they're thinking the same thing: "What the fuck is model student Joven Hernando doing here?" 

I am not opposed to the idea of after school discipline activities. Do I think it's ineffective? Sure. But misbehaving needs to be punished somehow and I suppose keeping you from leaving school on a Friday is one way to do it. 

Again, I am not opposed. But the thing is I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do anything that warrants me being here. I say as much as I walk in the dingy faculty room with it's flickering lights and monobloc chairs. The rest of my companions for the day only responded with snickers and eyerolls. Nice. Puro kupal nga pala tong mga to.

The only person who replied to my complaining was Pedro Janolino. He had such a strange name that he insisted that everyone should call him "Janols", thinking that it sounds better. It doesn't. 

"Aw chin up, pup," he says. "Tanggap ka pa rin namin kahit na basag na yang perfect image mo." 

He’s grinning from ear to ear, still staring at me as he sat down on one of the chairs. I want to punch his stupid face. Asshole must be loving this. It was never agreed on but somehow, over the course of our high school year, we've become unofficial rivals for the place of class valedictorian. The only reason he comes second to me is because I never lose points for good behavior and right conduct. Except today. This is the first time and it's not even my fault. 

I fix my glasses and sit on the chair furthest from Janols. It means I'm seated beside the loud and distracting Ed Rusca but I'd rather deal with him than Janols' obnoxious ass. 

"Malay mo Joven, i-feature kita sa mga anonymous posts ko sa secret files. Joven Hernando's big debut!" God he's still not done talking. "Gawin na nating Facebook official yong pagkawala ng model student label mo." 

Everyone in the room perks up at the mention of his anonymous posts. 

(They're not exactly anonymous, though. He loves the buzz too much so he signs them with his initials.)

Janols' weekly anonymous posts on our school's secret files page on Facebook has become the entire student body's only reliable source of gossip. No one knows who his sources are, no one knows how he gets his information, the only thing certain is that he is never wrong with his weekly exposes. There are no secrets in our school because Janols is bound to find out and reveal it eventually. It makes people equally fear him and hate him. 

I decide to tune out his endless tirade and bring out my calculus notes. I try to get a bit of homework done before the teacher who'll watch over us arrives. Janols can "expose" me for this stupid incident all he wants. I know what I did and didn't do. 

**Ed  
Friday, 4:55 PM**

Tagal. Tangina. Tagaaal.

These are the only words running through my mind as every second in this room passes. Kung alas singko pa kami magsisimula aba putangina bakit 4:30 palang pinapunta na kami sa hayop na lugar na to. Don't get me wrong, I don't have enough of a social life to hangout somewhere on a Friday night, but I have a gig that can actually earn me a decent amount of cash and I might actually miss it while being punished over something I didn't even do. 

The other people I'm with aren't doing anything to improve my mood either. I look around and see a bunch of unfamiliar faces. Well not that unfamiliar, I've been classmates with some of them. Unfamiliar in the sense that I've never seen them after school hours before. They're not the usual crowd I'd say. 

Pencil-headed freak has now moved on from tormenting Joven to the other two students with us: Vicente Enriquez—star fucking athlete and Remedios Nable-Jose—nothing fucking follows. 

I yawn a bit and decide to pay attention to what Janols is saying. Might as well entertain myself while I'm stuck in here. 

"Ang sinasabi ko lang naman, bantayan niyo yang tropa niyo," Janols said with so much confidence and malice in his voice it made Remmie give a worried glance to Vicente. He didn't seem to notice, as he was too busy staring daggers at Janols. "Iniisip niyo close kayo pero may mga baho bawat isa sa inyo." 

Even this caught Joven's attention. He's still looking at his books and notes but he angled his head a bit, clearly now listening in on the conversation and only pretending to study. 

Remmie still has that worried look on her face. She looks like a helpless dog. Maybe that's why she and Del Pilar make such a good couple. She gently taps Vicente's shoulder and whispers something in his ear. "Wag mo na lang pansinin," he reassures her. 

Janols just shrugs at the exchange. "Bahala kayo. Ako bihira ako mag bigay ng warning bago ako magkalat ng balita. Binibigyan ko kayo ng opportunity to come clean before the big reveal," he says over enthusiastically. 

Maybe it's how he said it. Maybe it's boring Remmie's nervous face or meat head Vicente's sudden stiffness. Whatever it was, something made me jump in. 

"Wag niyo na kasing pansinin yang tangang yan. Wala yang alam, hinuhuli lang kayo niyan." 

Shit. Wrong move. Instead of quieting down, Janols became more pumped up. He brought his attention to me and smiled wickedly as he stood from his chair to approach me. "Heh. Of course you'd know. Lagi ka nga namang hinuhuli." 

I keep my gaze at him. If he thinks his weak attempt at intimidation is going to make me falter then he'll be very disappointed. "Ano nga ba yong recent? Underage drinking? Driving while drunk? O driving without a license?" 

"Triple combo" I casually say. 

Janols rolls his eyes and flips me off. "Alam mo Rusca hindi masaya pag nakikiride ka ha. Mood killer kang hayop ka." 

I can feel Joven suppressing a laugh beside me. I can't help but smile a bit. Joven is the kind of student that gets riled up about straight line formations and proper recycling, taking everything way too seriously and without fun. Coaxing a laugh out of him is something I can take pride in. Small wins I guess. 

Janols hurries back to his seat as Mascardo arrives. Tangina. Sa wakas. 

Our teacher drops his bags on his desk and gives us all a once over. His eyes land on Janolino, squints, and then moves to me, another squint. Malabo ba mata nito o may sira sa ulo.

He lets out a deep sigh and clasps his hands together, as if he was preparing for battle and not one dreadful hour with five supposedly problem students. Mascardo opens his mouth to speak but Joven beats him to it, raising his hand up too quickly and too high it almost smacks my face. Jesus, this guy.  
“Yes, Mr. Hernando?” 

Joven actually stands up as if he was about to give a rousing speech. “Sir, hindi po kasi talaga tama to. Hindi ko po phone yong nahanap niyo sa bag ko. Iniiwan ko sa locker ko lagi ang phone ko, pwede mo pang i-check.” Mascardo raises his eyebrows at this. 

“Inuutusan mo ba ko Mr. Hernando?” 

One single clap back and Joven shuts up and sits back down. It’s obvious how out of his element he actually is. 

**Vicente  
Friday, 5:08 PM**

The moment Joven sits down, I stand up. “Sir,” I firmly say, getting Mascardo’s attention. “Kahit po ako, hindi ko rin phone yong nahanap niyo sa bag ko. Mga 4th year na kami sir, tingin niyo po ba we don’t know better.” 

“Actually, sir, super freshie mistake po yong maconfiscatean ng phone,” I hear Remmie chime in and see all the other students in the room nod in agreement. Mascardo doesn’t seem fazed and just begins handing out pieces of paper and pens. I give up any attempts to get out of this and resign myself to an entire afternoon wasted, probably spent writing the same thing over and over again. 

Remmie gives me a smile that can be interpreted as “Thanks for trying.” I nod and smile back. We aren’t particularly close but we belong in the same group of friends. She’s a bit on the quiet side but she’s been dating my best friend since we were in our sophomore year. Her pretty face and kind eyes makes up for the total lack of character and I say that with so much respect. No one is saying it but everyone is thinking it. There’s just not much to her, or if there is she isn’t doing a good job at showing it. 

As I look back to the others, I see mixed looks of confusion and irritation. No doubt we all have better things to do than be here. What’s even more appalling is that it seems like an awful prank was pulled on all five of us. I stare at the blue lines on the yellow paper and think of who could have planted those phones in our bags and why. 

“1,000 words. Write an essay on your generation’s over reliance on gadgets and technology,” Mascardo spits out the words like it’s venom. 

“Pssst, Vicente,” Remmie whispers as she slides her paper a little towards me and I look over to see ‘Technophobe’ written in thin, neat, cursive writing. I chuckle a bit—not because it was particularly funny but because it was the polite thing to do. 

“Paano namin malalaman kung nakakailang words na kami?” I hear Ed Rusca speak in his I-have-better-things-to-do-than-be-respectful way. “Edi bilangin mo,” Mascardo dryly replies. We all knew but the confirmation of the dreadful task still makes us groan collectively. 

A few minutes of silence pass by as each one of us tries our hardest to actually write a decent essay. Or at least some of us are. I’m sure Remmie is just writing ‘technophobe’ over and over again and Rusca has crumpled and torn his paper the moment it was given to him. I stop counting the minutes when I check my watch and see that it’s just 5:20. Time will move faster if I keep myself busy anyway, so I write. I write and write and write without thinking if it even makes sense or not. I write until I fill up an entire page and a half with barely coherent strings of sentences. It doesn’t matter though. I’m on a roll so I just keep at it.

The sound of a chair scratching the floor disrupts me. I look up and see Janolino standing up. Everyone’s eyes are on him. 

“Yong thermos ko. Nasaan yong thermos ko?” He says as he moves all over the room to look for it. “Huy uhawin ako. Hindi pwede na wala yon.” 

Everyone continues on without giving him much notice. Of course we’re all familiar with his beloved thermos. He’s had it since freshman year. It’s big and metallic and is always sweating with all the moisture from all the ice he puts in it. It takes up more than half his locker and makes the most annoying clatter whenever he places it down. It’s actually a surprise he managed to misplace such an enormous thing. 

Janolino keeps rummaging through the room enough to get on Mascardo’s nerves. “Janolino! Upo!” He shouts. “Kung nauuhaw ka may dispenser at baso diyan sa likod.” 

He thankfully does not try to argue and proceeds to go to the very back of the room. I watch him from the corner of my eye as he pours himself a cup of water and goes back to his seat. Janolino places the untouched cup of water on top of his desk and begins writing his essay once again. 

I check my watch. It’s 5:50. Just ten minutes before we can bolt out of here. I look back at my paper. It’s pretty much done anyway, nothing else I can add or remove. Leaving it as is, I shift my focus onto the other people in the room: Mascardo is looking at his phone—hypocrite; beside me Remmie has given up on her essay completely and is now doodling flowers on the edges of her paper; Janols is staring at his paper, maybe reviewing it; I glance at the back row where Rusca has fallen asleep and beside him is Joven who is still furiously writing, no doubt taking this activity way too seriously than it should be taken. 

The clock ticks away. It reads 5:59. One more minute turns into a few more seconds until I’ve begun a countdown in my head. 5...4...3...2...1.

A loud crash from outside startles all six of us. 

**Remedios  
Friday, 6:00 PM**

Eduardo Rusca was the first to stand up and look out the window, followed by Pedro Janolino. Everyone else follows except for Joven who waited to stand after Mr. Mascardo did. It was a car accident at the parking lot. A red Toyota and a black Honda. I nudge Vicente’s shoulder, “Sa kakilala ba natin yan?” I’m aware of how conceited this may sound but the only students who can afford and are allowed to drive their own cars in our school usually came from our clique. 

Vicente shakes his head. The look in his eyes says that this is the first time he’s seeing those cars as well. Maybe they belong to some student's parents. But why would they be coming to school at this hour? Maybe it belongs to a teacher and they came back because they forgot something? I look over to Mascardo to see if he recognizes any of the cars but he just stares outside blankly. He catches me looking at him and as if he was shaken off from a trance, his usual scowl returns as he all yells at us to go back to our seats. 

“Bababa ako para tignan yon. Walang aalis. Hindi pa kayo ligtas ha, ichecheck ko pa yang mga gawa niyo.” 

And with that, he swiftly got out of the room and all five of us were left to our own devices.

Joven, ever so predictable, went back to his seat. The four of us continued to look out the window. We were all curious and eager to see who were the idiots dumb enough to get in an accident at a very spaceous and very empty parking lot. 

All of a sudden, the red Toyota (who’s rear is pretty messed up) starts up its engine and slowly begins to drive away. Not soon after the other car does the same. 

Huh. Well that was anticlimactic. I glance at the clock. 6:16 PM. Great, I promised Gregorio I'll meet him by 6:30, looks like that plan's ruined. 

With nothing left to look out for, we all head back to our seats except for Janolino. He grabs his water cup and heads straight to Mr. Mascardo’s desk. He takes a deep breath, looks at all of us, and smiles. “Mukha kayong Breakfast Club,” he gleefully comments. He first points at me. “Ikaw yong ‘Princess.’” Then he points at Vicente. “Syempre ikaw yong 'Athlete', tapos kayong dalawa,'" he then nods at Joven and Ed. "'Brain' and 'Criminal' respectively." 

He continues to smile at all of us but there's something unfriendly about it. "Walking and talking high school cliches," he nods as if he just had a conversation with himself and is now agreeing on something. 

I suddenly feel self conscious under his gaze, making me look away and turn to Vicente instead. He doesn't look amused. I don't know what exactly happened but ever since December, he and Janolino aren't exactly on good terms. By the looks of it, one more snarky comment is all it takes before Vicente snaps and a fight happens. 

"So ano ka?" Ed suddenly asks. 

"Obviously, Ally Sheedy's character. But less quirky, more annoying," I reply. "Siya yong 'outcast'". 

Janolino's smile turns into a smirk. "Mali," he answers as he raises his cup. "Ako yong all knowing narrator na nakikita sa bawat galaw niyo." Then he drinks the entire cup of water. 

Nothing happens at first. He discards his cup on Mr. Mascardo's desk and continues to banter with us as we insist that there is no such trope in any TV show or movie, but Joven suddenly brings up Big Brother. Janolino begins to cough a bit. I argue back that that's a reality show thus, falling under a different category. Joven insists. Vicente joins in. Janolino coughs. 

"Hoy pugo, ayos ka lang?" Ed is the first to notice that something's wrong with Janolino. He won't stop coughing. It's becoming more incessant and throaty. As if he's choking on something. I start to panic while Ed immediately jumps to his side. He pats Janolino's back firmly, hoping that that will banish whatever was caught in his throat. 

The coughs begin to sound more frantic. His eyes are bulging out and tears are starting to form. He doesn't look good. 

Joven steps up next, running to his bag to retrieve his phone (his actual phone, not the fake one that was found in his bag). "Tatawag na ko sa ospital," he declares. "Remedios pwede bang hanapin mo si sir Mascardo?" 

I hear him say my name. I hear him instruct me. I want to get up and move. I really do. But for some reason I find myself frozen in place. I can't look away from Janolino. He's now down on his knees, with Ed still beside him. Tears have begun to run down his face and he's clutching his throat as if that will ease his coughing. 

"Tangina Nable-Jose!" 

I hear Ed swear at me. I stand up but as soon as I do my legs start to tremble. Vicente is quick to give me support. "Ako na," he says as he moves to leave and look for Mr. Mascardo. 

"Okay na. Padating na yong ambulansya," says Joven. I see him making a few more calls, not sure to who. Ed nods at him and gives him a small smile. Huh.

He then turns to me. "Hoy. 'Lika dito, tumulong ka naman." Ed gestures at the trash bin at the back of the room and I quickly bring it over to him, nearly stumbling in the process. Ed is now sticking his fingers in Janolino's mouth, trying to make him throw up whatever it is he might have ingested that caused this ceaseless coughing. 

I'm not a medical professional so I'm not going to pretend I understand what's happening, but I don’t think what Ed’s doing is helping. Janolino looks like he’s in so much pain. He’s retching and panting, and still coughing, his face has gone red—tears and saliva coating it. The sight is too horrifying but I can’t bear to look away. I watch as his breaths become more and more uneven by the second, I see the struggle in his eyes as it slowly rolls behind his head and his entire body stops moving. 

Silence engulfs the entire room. 

All three of us look at each other—pleading, questioning, too stricken to know what to do.

The door of the faculty room opens. Mr. Mascardo and Vicente come rushing in. “Anong nangyari?” he asks as he looks at Janolino sprawled on the floor. Motionless. 

6:23 PM. Pedro Janolino dies after drinking a cup of water.


	2. In a Better Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Joven  
Friday, 6:56 PM**

For the first time in a long while, something is beyond my control. 

A student is dead. Someone I know personally—someone I’ve known for a long time. We aren’t friends, in fact I don’t think Janols was friends with anyone. He isn’t easy to get along with and he doesn’t make the effort to be likeable either. It feels wrong thinking about him this way especially now that he’s gone. God, acknowledging it like this feels so surreal. 

An hour ago he was just here, with us, in front of everyone, being his usual off-putting self. Who would have thought it was the last time we'd hear him. I feel a heaviness in my chest.

It feels wrong to think ill of the dead. But that’s the thing—I don’t think my mind has fully processed it yet. I look around and observe everyone else. We’re now idly standing by in the school corridors, we couldn’t bear to stay in that room. It was too much. It smelled like death and the atmosphere was too heavy. Mascardo is busy talking with the police (they arrived seconds after the ambulance), Vicente and Remmie are leaning by the lockers and whispering to each other and is that a snicker I hear come out of Vicente? I look at the other side of the hall and see Ed is tapping away at his phone, earphones on, uncaring of the world surrounding him.

Why does it seem like I’m the only one affected by this? 

Mascardo finishes his conversation with the police officer and approaches us. “Sige na, umuwi na kayo,” he says. “Nakausap naman na kayo ng mga police diba?” 

We all nod. The four of us were the first to be questioned since we were all present when the incident happened. First it was Mascardo demanding an explanation seconds after arriving in the room, and then it was the paramedics when the ambulance (ambulances—I might have panicked and called four different hospitals) arrived, and then by the police when they came rushing after the death had been reported.

_Magkakasabay kaming dumating. Nagsusulat lang kami. Biglang may nagbanggaang kotse. Napatingin kaming lahat sa bintana. Lumabas si sir Mascardo para tignan. Nagkwentuhan kaming lima. Uminom ng tubig si Janolino. Inubo siya nang inubo hanggang sa hindi na siya makahinga. Namatay siya._

Repeating these sentences over and over again does not make them easier to say, at least for me. No doubt that in the following days I will be asked to recount this day on more than one occasion. The scary thing is I feel that the more I recount this incident the more I’ll be immune to it. It’s going to be like one of those things that loses its meaning once you say it over and over again and it becomes this strange and alien thing in your mouth.

I try my best to not think about it too much. We collect our things and slowly begin to head out the campus. 

“Gusto mo bang tawagan ko si Goyo para sunduin ka?” I hear Vicente ask Remmie. She just nods, staring straight ahead, shoulders slumped and looking exhausted. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or if it’s just her usual blank stare.

She’s a nice girl, I have nothing against her but honestly I can’t tell sometimes if all the life was somehow sucked out away from her when she started dating Gregorio del Pilar. To be fair, they were dating since we were 14 so it’s hard to remember what Remmie was like before they got together. In fact, I don’t think I can remember ever seeing her before she dated the most popular guy in school. Like I knew she was around. I knew she existed but I don’t remember seeing her.

“Ikaw? Paano ka uuwi?” Ed’s voice shakes me out of my thoughts. I look over and see him lighting a cigarette.

“Bawal yan. Nasa school grounds pa rin tayo,” I point out. He just shrugs, taking a deliberately long drag from his cigarette. How can he look like he’s okay after what we’ve just been through. He’s always so casual about everything, always intentionally disruptive, always intentionally distracting. Always so—

“Paano ka kako uuwi?” he asks again, sounding impatient. 

I think about it. I don’t live that far from our school, one jeep ride away. If I’m being honest though, I’m not in the mood to take that commute. It’s already seven in the evening, rush hour has started to pour in and I just don’t have the energy to deal with a flock of people going ham on each other over one vehicle. I pull out my phone and begin searching for our family driver’s number. 

“Magpapasundo na lang ako.” 

Ed throws his cigarette to the ground and before I can protest about littering, he hands me his helmet. “Hatid na kita.” 

I can only gape in response. 

“Sige na, on the way naman bahay mo,” he continues to push his helmet on my hands. 

“Sorry, ihahatid mo ko using what?” Surely it can’t be what I’m thinking. In front of me, Ed just flashes a toothy grin. 

**Ed  
Friday, 7:13 PM**

The strong wind greets us as we ride along the city streets, navigating the busy traffic with minimal difficulty. Normally, this would have had no difficulty at all, but Joven is gripping my shoulders so tight it makes maneuvering a bit trickier than usual. My helmet is a bit too big on him, sliding down his head at every bump and turn. He’s given up on trying to adjust it every few minutes or so and just resigned himself to keeping his head down—leaning it near the back of my head, the solid helmet lightly thumping at my nape. 

As if his deathly clasp isn’t distracting enough. As if his knees slightly touching my thigh isn't enough reminder of his presence. 

_Ano ba._

We arrive at his house—one of the big modern looking ones, tucked away in a nice and comfy subdivision. Joven struggles to hop off my motorbike. Helping him out crossed my mind but thought better of it. My unsolicited kindness does not extend past 7:00 PM. 

Finally able to slide his way off my bike, Joven then fumbles with the helmet straps. This is getting too ridiculous. I swat his hands away and unclasp the helmet for him.

“Salamat sa hatid,” he says, smiling shyly. 

I nod and give him a quick wink. He chuckles a bit. Small wins, my mind supplies. I take in his appearance—helmet head, glasses skewed, and tired eyes. “Kamusta ka?” I find myself asking him. Joven’s shoulders sink and he scratches the back of his head making his hair stick out. I suppress the urge to smoothen it down. 

_Wag kang tanga._

Joven lets out a heavy sigh. “Ang bigat ng pakiramdam ko, tapos ang gulo pa ng utak ko. I mean—paano nangyari yon? Uminom lang siya ng tubig. Kausap lang natin siya. Paano naging ganito bigla? Tapos parang walang nagtataka, gets ko naman na nagulat tayong lahat pero bakit parang hindi dinidiinan yong fact na may batang namatay out of the blue.” 

He continues for the next few minutes or so. I let him speak his mind and air out his concerns. It seems like this is something that’s been bothering him since we all watched as Janolino dropped out of existence. I’ve known Joven since we were 9 years old. This is typical Joven behaviour: overanalyzing and taking responsibility for everything. I forgot how needlessly dutiful and proactive he is. He's always out there caring about things, or starting things, or joining things, or joining the things he started because he cares for it. 

How tiring. 

Regardless, I listen to all his worries until he runs out of things to say. “Okay na?” I ask. “Nalabas mo na?” He nods defeatedly, lips still turned down. There’s an ache in my chest and an urge to remove that frown. 

As casually as I can, I give Joven’s shoulder a quick pat. “Wag mo na masyadong isipin yong nangyari kanina. Wala eh. Ginawa naman natin kaya natin. May mga bagay lang talaga tayo na hindi macontrol. Hindi mo kasalanan na namatay siya. Tandaan mo yan.” 

He fidgets, looking visibly uncomfortable. _Nice one, bobo._ To save us from slipping further into this awkward abyss, I tell Joven to get in his house and wave him goodbye. 

I ride back to my house—well not my house, technically it's the Bernals' house. I'm just the charity case living there. I pull up in front of our gate and am greeted by a familiar scruffy mustache. The face attached to the mustache is looking straight at me and is sporting an unamused expression.

"Bakit ka nanaman nandito?" 

"Aba hijo, magpasalamat ka't pinupuntahan kita dito para lang kamustahin," the mustache replies. 

I roll my eyes and move past him, rashly opening our gate. He trails right behind me, following me inside the house. 

"O, kala ko hindi ka nanaman uuwi eh," Manuel says in lieu of a greeting. "Kanina ka pa hinihintay ni sir Luna." 

Manuel is some low ranking police officer while Luna is his senior. And I'm the idiot who got caught breaking in and stealing food at the precinct they were stationed at when I was 11. Instead of arresting me, Manuel took pity and adopted me. Not that it helped me in any way. I still do the same shit. 

They're both standing in front of me, arms crossed, eyes intense. 

"Ano? Wala pa nga akong ginagawa bakit parang sesermonan niyo na ko?" 

"Alam namin yong nangyari sa ka-school mo," Manuel speaks first. He's calm but I sense wariness in his tone. "May usap-usapan na sa presinto. Mabilis ang balita lalo na ganito, may namatay." 

He's hesitating and choosing his words carefully. What the fuck is going on. I look to Luna for answers. If any one can give it to me straight, it's him. 

"Wala pang pruweba pero sinasabi nila na baka sinadya yong pagkamatay ng kaklase mo," Luna says. 

My eyebrows furrow at this. I don't understand. How can it be intentional? That's impossible. I was there, I saw him die. No one killed him. He just died. 

"Uminom lang siya ng tubig tapos bumagsak. Walang pumatay sa kanya," I insist. 

The police officers just look at each other. 

"Ano?!" I ask impatiently. 

Manuel puts his hand on my shoulder as if he's reassuring me, but I'm not exactly sure from what. 

"Ed. Sabi nga ni sir, wala pa naman talagang proof pero may hinala yong mga naghahandle ng kaso na may foul play involved." He looks so worried and I don't understand why.

"Hijo," Luna interjects. "Hindi na ko magpapaligoy. Pag nag desisyon sila na gawing murder case to, ikaw ang unang-unang iimbestigahan. Nandoon ka sa kuwarto nong nangyari yon. Hindi ganoon kaganda record mo. Wala kang abogado. May kaya yong mga ibang estudyante na kasama mo. Kung gustuhin ng mga magulang nilang isisi na lang sa'yo yong pag patay kayang kaya nila at wala kaming masyadong magagawa ni Manuel para sa'yo." 

Ah. I stare at both of them, realization finally dawning on me. They're already preparing me for the inevitable scenario. I take a deep breath and nod, turn my back and head straight to my room. If they call for me I pretend that I don't hear anything. I don't need Manuel to try and soften things up. 

The obvious and easy scapegoat. I guess that's my role here. 

**Vicente  
Monday, 5:17 AM**

The kitchen is in full swing this morning. Plates and spoons clashing, cups of coffee spilling, different chatter coming from different people—it’s overwhelming yet familiar at the same time. That’s the thing about being a part of a large family, you get used to the chaos and noise to the point that it becomes comforting to a certain degree. But on the days that my mind is screaming louder than my younger siblings their ceaseless jabbering becomes a little too much. 

I feel like I’m having a migraine. Can I actually use this as an excuse to skip school today. If I’m being honest I don’t think I can handle going to that place right now.  
I squeeze my way in between my brothers at our dining table. Our parents make a big deal out of breakfast so we’re all required to eat together regardless of our schedules. They also make a big deal out of grades and the friends you make and the clothes you wear. They make a big deal out of everything basically. 

Case in point, the moment my ass touches my seat they immediately grill me about Janols’ death. As if that wasn’t the hot topic the entire weekend. 

“O ano? Kamusta na yong namatay mong kaklase?” 

“Ayon. Patay pa rin.” I nonchalantly say. This earns a chuckle from kuya Anacleto and a disapproving glare from our father. What kind of question is that anyway? How did they think I was going to respond? 

“Curious lang kami, anak,” My mother supplies. “I mean, nandoon ka noong nangyari yon! Dapat updated ka sa progress ng kaso na yan. Don’t you want to know what happened to your classmate?” 

Honestly, I don’t. If it’s even possible I just want to forget that it even happened and just continue on with my life like it used to be. I feel bad thinking this way but it’s just Pedro Janolino. It’s not like we lost someone well loved and admired. The only reason people in school even pay attention to him is because of his gossip posts and I can assure that there are many people breathing a sigh of relief knowing that their secrets are in no threat of being exposed anymore. 

I say none of these of course and just nod along to my mother’s words telling her that I’ll make sure to get news when I get to school today. 

“Oo nga pala, tumawag yong jowa mo kagabi sa phone,” ate Severina says. 

“Phone? Sa landline? Bakit doon pa siya tatawag?” 

“Wala ba siyang number mo?” 

“Iniiwasan mo ba calls niya sa’yo?”

“Nagbreak na ba kayo?” 

Their continuous probing unnerves me, forcing me to abruptly stand up and silencing all of them. I look at all of them—at their eyes, equally expectant and judging. “Hindi kami break. Tulog na ko kagabi nong tumawag siya sa phone ko so di ko na nasagot. Kaya siguro tumawag siya sa landline.” 

This satisfies them for now. I excuse myself from the table and get ready for the day. No doubt that I’m going to have to endure being questioned like this either about the incident or about my girlfriend. 

I arrive at school at 7:00 AM, just before the flag ceremony begins, getting in line right in front of Goyo. “Muntik ka nang di umabot ah,” he teases. I roll my eyes at him and focus on what’s happening. It was the usual Monday morning. We sing our Lupang Hinirang and recite our Panatang Makabayan. Do a few stretches which basically counts as morning exercise and listen to a few reminders and announcements from the faculty. 

“Alam ko na karamihan sa inyo ay alam na ang nangyari nong Biyernes,” Principal Aguinaldo says into the microphone, his voice as monotonous as ever. “Pero let me make a formal announcement just to keep everyone informed: Our beloved student and classmate Pedro Janolino died last Friday. He is in a better place now.” 

By this point, everyone has already heard about it but it doesn’t stop them from gasping and whispering among themselves. 

“We will hold a memorial for him later in the week. Kung gusto niyong bisitahin ang lamay niya you are all welcome to do so. I think his parents will greatly appreciate that.” He closes off his announcement with a short prayer and a reminder to us on how short and important each of our lives really are. 

We were all instructed to go straight to our classrooms in one line, per section, to prepare for our first class. 

Dropping off my bag in our classroom, I get the things I need and proceed to place everything else in my locker. 

“Hi,” I hear someone say as I try to make all my things fit in our small shoe box-sized lockers. 

I turn and am greeted by the shy bright smile of Josie Ycasiano—the infamous _jowa_ that called our landline last night. “Tinatawagan kita hindi ka sumasagot.” 

“Nakatulog ako eh,” I lie. I move to give her a half hug at the same time she tips her toes to give me a kiss on the cheek, resulting in our heads colliding. We laugh it off and try again, with me offering my cheek thinking she’ll attempt to kiss me again only for it to press against her cheek. She probably thought I was the one who’ll go for a kiss this time. 

We settle for a shoulder squeeze and smile at each other. “Okay ka lang ba?” Josie asks. 

“Of course,” I lie again. She seems to believe it, though as she says her goodbye and promises to meet me for lunch. 

“Tangina bro,” Goyo says coming from out of nowhere. “Yan na yata ang pinaka awkward encounter na nakita ko.” He has one arm wrapped around Remmie. I can’t tell if he’s embracing her or trying to choke her. “Ano? Sawa ka na sa kaniya no?”

I pay no mind at his jab at our relationship and hurry back to our classroom. I have too much on my mind right now and dealing with an annoying best friend is not on my priority list.

**Remedios  
Monday, 7:39 AM**

I watch Vicente’s back as he ignores Goyo’s dig. Normally he would have tried at least to argue back a bit. Maybe even joke about Goyo’s own blunders in our relationship which I, of course like the good girlfriend that I am, will immediately rebuff. 

But he does none of that—not a single snear or even a grunt. Nothing. I guess he’s still affected by Janols’ death. I was so shaken up by it that I practically became useless when it was happening. I keep thinking, maybe if I just moved, if I just made an effort, maybe something could have happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have died. 

Goyo suddenly places his finger between my eyebrows, attempting to straighten it out. 

“Nakasimangot ka nanaman,” he says. “Alam mong ayokong sumisimangot ka, it makes me look like a negligent boyfriend. Sasabihin nila wala akong ginagawa to make you feel better. Gusto mo ba yon?”

I shake my head. Of course not. Goyo has done nothing but the best for me since we started dating. He has always been correct about everything concerning our relationship. He often jokes that I wouldn’t survive a day without him. The funny thing is, it’s true. I rely on him so much. He always knows what to say or what to do. I’m truly lucky to have him—everyone else says so, even my mother. My father is a bit wary of him, but that’s just dads being dads. 

“Put on a smile,” Goyo tells me. He looks at me from head to foot, scrutinizing every single bit of me. If it was anyone else doing this I’d feel extremely uncomfortable but because it’s him I don’t mind at all. “Itali mo buhok mo,” he says. 

Out of reflex I begin to pull my hair up but falter halfway. To be honest I’m not feeling super confident to show my face today. My hair is jetblack and long, reaching just a little bit below the middle of my back. When I put it down it can hide everything I hate about myself well—including my negative thoughts. People have always complimented my hair since I was little. It’s nice and thick and healthy. The shortest I’ve cut it is when I was 13. I cut it til it’s only up to my shoulders because it was summer and my hair wasn’t helping with the heat. Many people exclaimed their disappointment saying it’s such a shame. My hair was so nice.

Summer came and went and my hair started growing again. That’s around the time Goyo talked to me for the first time despite being schoolmates since grade 3. I can remember it as if it was yesterday. 

We were in our second year of high school, it was a few weeks after classes started again. I was sitting in the canteen with my sister Dolores when Goyo, without warning, sat beside us. Me and Dolores eyed each other. “Remmie ang cute mo pala, wag ka na magpapagupit ulit ah, mas maganda ka pag mahaba buhok mo,” he said like it was nothing. Like he didn’t make my heart turn and contort and beat irregularly. It was the first time that someone noticed my face rather than my hair. 

I remember staring at him as I blushed and he smiled. His looks haven’t developed then. He had braces and was rake thin, and his smile was a bit too wide for his slim face but I adored every bit of it. I knew at that moment that he’ll be a huge part of my life.

What I didn’t know back then was that he will become my life. He’s someone I can never replace. Ever. I repeat it in my mind like a mantra. 

Goyo shakes me from my thoughts. I’m still holding my hair up, not making any move to tie it completely. He senses my hesitation. “I’m feeling a bit off today eh, parang mas gusto kong maglugay—mas comfy,” I attempt to explain. 

He brushes a strand of hair from my face, pulls off my scrunchie from my wrist, and hands it to me. “Mag tali ka, I like how you look with your hair up. Mawawala din yang ‘off feeling’ mo mamaya.” 

I give in and tie my hair. He only wants what’s best for me and I trust him. He’s just looking out for me like he did when we first talked and like he has always done since then. 

We go to our class after that. Goyo, as always, is correct. My unease died down as the day went on. And if I happen to tightly hold onto my ponytail throughout the day, especially when Janols gets mentioned, well then that has nothing to do with anything. If I convince myself enough to believe it then I bet it can convince other people as well. 

The rest of the day was honestly uneventful. Aside from the talk of Janols’ death, nothing else really happens. It’s just another mundane Monday at school. 

That is until me and Vicente were pulled out of class and called to the Principal’s office. We quietly walked down the halls of the school, neither of us talking, only the sound of our shoes heard. We haven’t really spoken about the incident since it happened. When I got home that night, I didn’t even think about calling him to ask how he was feeling. All I wanted was to crawl under my blankets and sleep the memories away. 

We reach the office and inside is Principal Aguinaldo together with Joven and Ed. Minus sir Mascardo, this is basically everyone at the incident last Friday. What is going on? I tug at Vicente’s sleeve and he replies with a comforting hand on my back, leading me in the room. 

Vicente and I join them at the table. The uneasy feeling I fought hard to shake off the entire day is slowly creeping up at me and coming back. 

“Hindi ko na papatagalin to mga hijo’t hija,” Principal Aguinaldo starts. “There were traces of Zonrox found in the cup Janolino drank out of before he died.” 

We all looked at each other, equally startled and confused. 

“They checked the gallon of water connected to the dispenser, baka doon nanggaling—negligence of the supplier, hopefully Janolino’s family can sue them. However walang nahanap na traces ng Zonrox sa tubig. Chineck nila yong mga ibang plastic cup. Wala din.” 

Vicente is tapping his foot, Joven is biting his nails, and Ed seems unfazed. I hold my ponytail tighter. 

“This lead the police to believe that either the Zonrox was placed pagkatapos ni Janolinong makakuha ng tubig o doon lang sa baso na yon may Zonrox at pinlano nilang gamitin ni Janolino yon.” 

For some reason, the walls around us seem to shrink and I’m feeling trapped. What is he saying? Janols’ death was intentional? Planned? Not an accident? Who would do such a thing? 

“Ngayon,” Principal Aguinaldo leans forward, looking at every single one of us in the eye. “Nakumpirma na kay Mascardo na setup lang na nahulihan kayo ng phone sa mga bag niyo. Narealize niya to nang wala man lang kahit isa sa inyo ang nag claim sa mga phones na nakaconfiscate niya. Planado na magkakasama kayong lima nong araw na yon. Kayong apat ang huling kasama ni Janolino bago siya namatay. Kayong apat ang unang iimbestigahan.” 

All four of us are frozen in place, as if time stopped. None of us can say anything to that. 

It’s so absurd! One of us killed Janols? Is that even possible? I look at Vicente, then at Ed, then at Joven. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I don’t really know any of these people, in the same way that they don’t know me. 

Are they capable of killing? Am I? 

“Kung may gusto kayong aminin ngayon palang, now is the best time to do so.” 

None of us said anything. I wonder how many of us were lying.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I am back with a murder mystery after a few years. 
> 
> It's BCU meets The Breakfast Club meets the murder mystery genre. 
> 
> Mostly inspired by the YA Novel One of Us is Lying, if your familiar with the book then you can guess how the story will go. Though I've added my own take on it to keep it from being a page by page replica. 
> 
> Will probably update once or twice a week.


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